


insolia

by en passant (corinthian)



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: M/M, fucking friday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-22
Updated: 2014-11-22
Packaged: 2018-02-26 13:28:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2653640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corinthian/pseuds/en%20passant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr prompt from Ahsim, "1x3 Trowa gets astoundingly drunk and shows Heero his high heel collection. "</p>
<p>Explicit sex and some kink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	insolia

Trowa was drunk.

Heero could tell as soon as he stepped into their shared home. A small house, one story, that only had a half-bath, bedroom and livingroom-kitchen, but it was perfect for their needs. Clustered by the door were Trowa’s shoes, his bag, and several necessities — toilet paper, laundry detergent, a tin of expensive espresso beans. If Trowa was not drunk he would have put everything in its proper place, because they were both tidy people.

Also, he heard Trowa’s drunk-hum. Trowa’s sober-hum was rhythmic and even and always in four or two. His drunk-hum was any mix of anything _not_ fours or twos. Tonight it was in threes. 

Heero sidestepped the thirty-two pack of toilet paper and headed for their bedroom. Trowa was there. He sat cross-legged on the center of the bed, body bent over what Heero knew was an unlabeled bottle of homemade _something_ that Duo and Catherine swapped recipes about and that alone made it probable-toxic. Trowa had, most likely, drank the entire thing.

“You’re drunk.” Heero said.

Trowa’s hum cut off and very slowly, very deliberately, he unfolded himself. He was still quite graceful, even as his motions were slow and calculated. The empty bottle was set on the bedside table and Trowa flashed Heero a rare grin. Unlike most people’s grins, Trowa’s was still small and still private, but he showed his teeth and, always, tilted his face up. The action, always, revealed the full curve of Trowa’s lips, both of his eyes, and showed off his neck.

“No, I’m not.” Trowa said solemnly.

“You’re drunk.” Heero said again.

“No, I’m not, let me show you.” Trowa leaned forward and hung off the bed, both his hands dug under the bedframe and under the bedskirt that neither of them had bought but someone had given to them as a housewarming gift. Trowa slid a long box out from under the bed and pulled off the lid. “See.” He said.

Heero peered inside. It was a box of shoes.

Trowa picked one up, a boot with a heel so extreme the toe was parallel to it. “Sober.” He said and put it back in the box and picked up another show. The heel was slightly less extreme, but Heero doubted it could be less than five inches. “Tipsy.” And then another shoe, again with a less extreme heel. “Tipsier.” Finally, he came to one with a more gentle heel, “Drunk.” And a pair of shoes with barely any heel at all, “Shitfaced.”

When Heero said nothing in response to Trowa’s explanation it seemed to spur him on. “So, I’m not drunk.” Trowa eased off his socks, rolled over, and put on the ‘tipsy’ heels. He stayed on the bed for a moment, Heero could practically see Trowa wait for the room to stop spinning and settle, before he sat up and swung his feet over the edge.

“You’re going to prove that you’re not drunk by walking in heels.” Heero pointed out. It sounded ludicrous to him, but Trowa’s face shifted into an even rarer grin. This grin, Heero was certain, was an expression no one else got to see. Even other people who got to have sex with Trowa. Trowa ran his hand through his hair, paused to show Heero his full face and let the grin slowly appear. Both his eyes slipped halfway shut and the expression was all at once eager to please, challenging and a little fragile. It wouldn’t last long, only a few seconds, but Heero found himself giving one quick nod to the unspoken question.

“I’m only a little tipsy.” Trowa said. He stood, didn’t wobble and walked past Heero to the living room. “Put on music?”

“We don’t get reception.” They had a radio, it was a relic from their previous home. Heero used to listen to the news and whatever was popular music on it, to keep informed on the trends. Trowa had listened to classical, and unexpectedly rap. 

“Just turn it on.”

Heero flicked it on, set it to low static, just loud enough to be heard in every room of the house and joined Trowa. He sat on the arm of the couch and watched Trowa move through the living room. Trowa didn’t quite dance, but there was a music to his step and when he stopped in front of Heero and leaned forward — the heels gave him enough height he could straddle Heero’s lap easily — it was in a soundless three beat rhythm. Even the next motions, Trowa’s hands on Heero’s knees, the brief almost-kiss of Trowa’s lips against Heero’s cheek and then the pull away, all rhythmic.

One hand secured itself against Heero’s hip, the other around his shoulders. Trowa pulled him into a dance and went back to his three beat hum. Heero let Trowa lead, his eyes glued to the floor, to the high heels and the fact that Trowa seemed perfectly capable of dancing in heels while drunk.

“Wait.” Trowa stopped, pushed Heero back a step and started to undo his slacks. His hand, the one that had been on Heero’s hip, circled the hem around his waist before he pushed them down. Trowa stepped out of one shoe, lifted his leg from the slacks and repeated the action. Then he stood there in his briefs and work dress shirt and tie and heels and grabbed for Heero again. “Better?” He asked and they danced again. Heero stopped looking down, then, lifted his gaze and locked it on the hollow of Trowa’s throat. Suprasternal notch, he thought.

“Not quite.” Trowa interrupted. He grabbed at Heero’s shirt and tugged it up out of its neat tuck in his pants, before he went to work on the buttons. For a drunk man he had amazing coordination, but Heero watched Trowa’s brow furrow in concentration and he’d stopped humming until he had them all undone. “Better?” He asked, both thumbs slid under the curve of Heero’s muscles before he dragged his thumbnail across Heero’s ribs. And both hands stopped on Heero’s hips. Trowa waited.

Heero knew this game, they’d played it before. The first time he had been nervous, the rules unclear, but each time they repeated it Trowa made sure to ease him into it, to remind him of how it was done.

“No,” Heero said. Trowa’s lips quirked into a smile. “Stand back." Without hesitation Trowa took a step back. Heero stared, he scrutinized. It was more than mentally undressing Trowa, it was mentally taking him apart, down to his bones and veins. He knew human anatomy intimately, that Trowa’s narrow hips were formed by his iliam crest and consequently the ilium. When he looked at Trowa he thought about the high heels, the soleus, the way Trowa’s legs were perfectly toned, his Achilles tendon, the slight sway to Trowa’s hips as he stood and waited, extensor digitorum longus, the way Trowa arched under him, the tibialis anterior and — "Shirt open."

Trowa licked his lips, the opposite of an erotic gesture, it was a sign of slight nervousness but for them it was a sign of trust. He slowly loosened his tie, undid the buttons, but he didn't remove it.

“Touch yourself.” Heero said, quietly. Instead of reaching down to fondle himself through his briefs, Trowa rested his hand against his navel and then up. He circled one nipple and then caressed his own face and drew his fingers into his mouth. Trowa’s eyes shut and he sucked on his fingers. Heero didn’t tell him to stop. It was only after Trowa made a soft pleading noise and his other hand dropped low and he cradled his cock, rocked his hips and unbalanced slightly in his heels that Heero moved forward. He walked Trowa back, pulled his hands away from himself. “Stop. Lean back.” 

No hesitation. Trowa arched back blindly, his arms extended and his fingertips found the arm of the couch. “More.” Heero said, until Trowa’s body was taut and precariously bent back with only his feet, the heels, and his fingertips to hold him up. “Better?” Heero asked this time, laid his cheek against Trowa’s stomach and kissed the scarred skin there. He felt Trowa’s breathing and the gentle vibration of his hushed voice.

“Better.” Agreement.

“Leg up.” Heero ordered. He didn’t pull away. He felt the shift of muscle, the change in Trowa’s breath as he leaned with his weight and with effort lifted his right foot off the ground. Heero tugged down Trowa’s briefs, a little, murmured: “Understand?” and Trowa’s balance and flexibility helped Heero work them off one leg, then the other.

He let Trowa rebalance and Trowa let him look. Heero was built for power, compact and growing in even ratios. As his shoulders gained muscle so did his legs. He was short, but no one would ever think he wasn’t a fighter. Duo had said once, it was also in how Heero held himself, solid and immovable unless he wanted to be shifted. Trowa was the opposite. He _looked_ tall and pliant and while he had to have the same fat to muscle ratio as Heero there was something mercurial about his physical presence. Even bent back as he was over the couch arm with every muscle defined and open for Heero to see every detail of his legs, hips, cock and balls, Trowa gave the illusion that if he wanted he could simply fold up and disappear from view. It was more than just an implication, Heero had seen Trowa do it, with other people, pull every wall up only to carefully bring them back down when Heero was around.

“Wider.” Heero said, but even as Trowa complied and spread his stance, he dropped down to one knee in front of him. He leaned down, first circled the anklebone with his thumb, then his tongue, and then still bent down at an awkward angle he kissed and sucked. Trowa’s calves tensed and his knees flexed, the stimulation not unwanted but it didn’t make his pose any easier.

With reverence, Heero worshipped up Trowa’s long leg. He grazed his teeth against the skin and muscle and placed kisses on his knee. When he reached his thigh he dragged his tongue down the skin in one motion until Trowa’s cock brushed against his cheek.

“ _Heero._ ” Trowa whispered in a slight tremble that ran through his whole body.

Already Heero felt the ache of desire in his own body, briefly wondered how Trowa could be drunk but let the thought go so he could curl his knuckles under Trowa’s balls and draw his hand forward, down the length of his cock. He was rewarded by another whisper of his name and then a reedy whine when he pressed against the slit with his thumb. Heero waited, three heartbeats, and then he pressed again, harder. Trowa’s whole body rocked with the small motion. Heero waited again, and pressed again, again harder and with almost reluctance Trowa grew hard.

“Better — . . . Heero, _better_.” Trowa exhaled, inhaled sharply, breathed the words with quiet desperation his ribs seemed to flutter and while he kept his legs spread his knees angled in, just slightly.

Heero pulled up with his grip on Trowa, roughly, fingers tightened just behind the crown. He watched, cautious and careful, as Trowa forced his body into an even more extreme arch, hands shifted down to perch at the end of the couch arm. There was just enough room — he sank down again, slid his hand down Trowa’s cock to the base — to angle his head under Trowa, let his tongue and teeth drag back under Trowa towards his ass.

“I can’t — “ Trowa’s sharp breath made his lower back tense. Heero stopped, let his hand drift to Trowa’s thigh where he rubbed reassuringly. “— _Better._ ” Trowa hissed, contradicting himself. Heero waited, counted Trowa’s breathing, felt the way he relaxed.

“Trowa?”

“Yes.” 

Heero didn’t move, not until Trowa added on, “Yes. I’m too drunk for this to go on too long, if you hesitate I’ll end up kneeing you in the head.” His voice was calm and Heero couldn’t hear any of the tells that Trowa had when he was lying about his own comfort. Nor had Trowa said _worse_.

“Okay.” Heero said. He twisted under Trowa, brought the hand that had been on his thigh under to track the same path his mouth had taken, before he spread the cheeks of Trowa’s ass apart and pushed his thumbs up. He was not gentle, but still careful with Trowa’s weight balanced above him, and countered the abrupt motion of his hands with his tongue, teasing at Trowa’s hole, just barely entering him.

Trowa’s hips dipped, but only slightly. “ _Please._ ” He shuddered above Heero. In response, Heero dug his thumbnails into the firmness of Trowa’s ass, hard enough to leave imprints and pistoned his tongue in and out of him. This time, Trowa’s hips bucked up in an abbreviated, uncontrolled, thrust. Trowa was starting to unravel. Heero could feel Trowa relax, not just because of the attention to his ass. He couldn’t see Trowa’s face, but he knew that the tightness that lived at the corner’s of Trowa’s mouth had dissolved, the tell-tale tension that curled under one shoulder blade and his lower back were beginning to let up. Soon. Heero drew his tongue back and between Trowa’s cheeks, almost up to the dip in his spine. He nipped with his teeth, his hand walked down from Trowa’s balls to hook the edge of his asshole and tug lightly. A low guttural moan forced its way out of Trowa and Heero had a secret smile against his back.

“Falling — “ Trowa got out between sharp gasps. He gave Heero just enough time to scoot back, before Trowa lost his balance and toppled onto the couch a mess of loose limbs. With some effort, Trowa arranged himself on the couch. He let his legs fall open, showing off his erection. Nothing was said, Trowa just rocked against the couch, invited Heero with his movements. Trowa hummed, lost the rhythm, but kept humming anyway.

Heero hastily discarded his pants and boxers. He was already leaking, already desperate, but he didn’t move forward yet. He just watched Trowa’s undulating hips and listened to the broken bars of some song he didn’t know come out as an inviting rumble. Then Trowa’s left leg lifted up and kept going and Trowa fastidiously ignored touching himself in favor of spreading his hole wide for Heero, in a mimic of where Heero’s hands had been, down to the way his fingernails dug in.

“Better?” Trowa asked, but he had left Heero to fumble with the drawer on the table next to the couch and it was clear he was biting back amusement. Whenever he came undone there was always a thread of pleased smugness in his motions, even as he offered up his body for Heero’s cock. With hurried motions Heero slicked himself and rushed to press his fingers to Trowa. Trowa caught his wrist, pressed him in deeply with another groan and wrapped a limber leg around Heero, the buckle of his heeled shoe pressed against Heero’s skin. “Now.” Trowa said. Heero shook his head, scissored his fingers again and lost himself in the contact of their cocks against each other and Trowa’s needy wordless whine. “Heero.” “Please.” “Now.”

Three heartbeats. Then Heero pushed in, abruptly, sinking deep into Trowa and grunted _better_ against Trowa’s neck. He levered Trowa’s leg back against and between them, they shifted and rolled slightly again off-balance but this time held up by Heero’s grip on Trowa. Trowa’s hand was in Heero’s hair, his fingers made a fist, tearing hair and digging into his scalp. “Better.” Trowa affirmed, writhed against Heero and clung to him when Heero drew back so he could push in again. It was only a few hurried thrusts before Heero came and he held Trowa to him in a crushing embrace and rocked them with tenderness until the friction of their bodies drew orgasm from Trowa as well.

With reluctance Heero pulled out of Trowa, but didn’t loosen his hold. Trowa ran his fingers through Heero’s hair. Once, twice, again, and took up his humming again. “Good.” He murmured. Heero nodded, kissed his neck. “Yes.” He agreed.

“Trowa, I — “

Trowa inhaled sharply, a warning, then exhaled slowly. He shifted, twisted so he could bring his arms down around Heero. After securing a foot against the couch arm he stretched and pulled Heero down more on top of him so they were properly laying on the couch together.

“I’m drunk.” Trowa said with a laugh.

“I know.” Heero said.

“Thank you.”

Heero’s legs weren’t long enough to reach down and twine with Trowa’s feet, and Trowa was still wearing the heels anyway. Instead he laid his head against Trowa’s chest and listened to his heart under his shirt and under his skin.


End file.
